


Injuries change everything

by 99musicalsherlocks



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:07:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99musicalsherlocks/pseuds/99musicalsherlocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is back and molly takes a tumble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a review or just some improvements or what you thought i'd really appreciate it. This is my first fan fiction. i will update soon promise :)  
> i should have a new chapter out nearly every day.

It had been two years since molly had seen Sherlock, after helping him with his suicide plan he had left abruptly without a word.  
For the first year it had been hard not being able to tell the people he had left behind that Sherlock Holmes was in fact very alive,it had killed her to see John in such a miserable state and Mrs Hudson crying quietly to herself at the faked funeral. She tried her best to comfort them about a man she new wasn't really gone but it was difficult and instead she surrounded herself in her work as a pathologist. She worked extra shifts and never took time off and eventually the guilt settled and missing Sherlock wasn't as bad because she new one day maybe, just maybe he'd return.

That night Molly was working overtime. She had a lot of paper work to finish but first she had to finish the autopsy on an 8 year old girl who once may have been bright, bubbly and sweet,playing with her friends and finishing her homework but right now she was cold with flat eyes and a pale complexion which was a shame, she looked as though her future could have been great. Turns out she had died of malaria after going on holiday with her family, she'd been bitten and hadn't noticed giving it time to work and eventually kill the poor girl. She finished up and made her way over to her computer to make a start on the paperwork. It was 8:30 pm and she wanted to make it home to her small but pleasant flat by ten. Flicking her mousy brown hair over her shoulder and chewing on her bottom lip she started typing dates and diagnoses onto the paper work. St Barts was a quiet place at night compared to the bustle and noise of the daytime, Molly could hear the drip of a tap from another room and the tick tick tick of the plain white clock on the far side of the room, the tapping of her keyboard sounded louder than it was as the sounds echoed around the room. Then she heard it. The click of those squeaky clean shoes. The swish of that fancy coat. There was only one person who wore those shoes. The sound grew closer and closer then stopped inches away from the labs door, with a quite click the door eased open and in walks the man she thought she would never see again, the only man she had ever fallen for and just as she'd picked herself up in he walks looking so handsome with his collar turned up, his hair curling around his ears and falling just above his eyebrows, his eyes glassy and dazzling all at the same time with there color of the sky mixed with the sea and his rosy lips turned up into a slight smirk as he takes in Molly's shocked expression. Sherlock Holmes was back and my was he looking fine.

Molly tried to speak but her mouth refused to move from its shocked state so instead she just stared, her mouth open and her eyes wide she just stared. Sherlock wasn't surprised by this reaction as he watched a feeling of happiness settled over him, he hadn't realized how much he missed her. Sherlock couldn't help but walk over to her and hold her in a warm embrace. This gesture seemed to surprise both of them yet they still stood there holding each other.  
Molly could hear the soft thud of Sherlock's heart as she held him, her head pressed against, her arms wrapped around his slim but muscular waist. He smelt of London and expensive aftershave a smell Molly new well, a smell she'd never forget. After more than a minute they both reluctantly pulled away from each other.  
"im back" Sherlock said with a smirk.  
" I can see that" Molly replied, still a little shocked.  
"I went to see John, he didn't seem as happy to see me as you did" Sherlock said watching the floor. His eyes following the patterns of the tiles.  
"That's because he thought you were dead Sherlock" it felt weird and nice at the same time to be talking to Sherlock, she'd missed his deep voice and his sarcastic answers.  
"he's getting married, you know?" Sherlock mumbled looking up at Molly.  
"That's a good thing Sherlock, you did congratulate him didn't you?" Molly watched him slightly worried.  
"for gods sakes Molly of course i did i'm not an imbecile unlike some people" Molly just stared at him, he was still an ass, he hadn't changed, hes been through so much and yet he hadn't changed even slightly. Sherlock saw the hurt in Molly's eyes and immediately felt bad, what was wrong with him, he never felt bad about anything he said so why now?  
"I'm sorry Molly, iv'e just had a long night" Sherlock said.  
"Its fine" Molly couldn't deal with it all right now, she grabbed her bag and left as quickly as she could making her way down the long, white windowless corridor. She could hear Sherlock following her but she could tell he was hesitant. Turning a corner and making her way down the stairs she didn't notice her bag strap get caught around her foot, she didn't notice Sherlock shout her name as she fell down the stairs landing on the concrete with a loud thump she didn't notice Sherlock run down the stairs, she didn't notice him picking her up with a worried expression on his face, she didn't notice because everything had gone black.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was fuzzy. Her head hurt and her stomach kept flipping repeatedly. what had happened? she couldn't remember much just leaving the morgue in a rush. After that everything had gone black.

A car alarm had started going off from somewhere nearby, it's squealing stopped abruptly leaving everything silent. Keeping her eyes closed, Molly continued to listen. Something was crackling and there was a constant tick of a clock, it sounded a little fast. Slowly Molly opened her eyes letting them adjust to the darkness of the room. The only source of light was coming from the bright fire place to her left flickering every now and again as the flames danced and spun around one another. There was books everywhere, books on bones, books on genetics, books cells and immune systems and a couple of classics like Shakespeare, pride and prejudice and Jane Eyre. The walls had strange flowered patterned paper on them with long velvet drapes covering the windows. It was all very Victorian. On the wall which Molly was laid closest too was a smiley face put there by bright yellow spray paint.

She tried to turn her body to the side on the leather couch but soon realized she shouldn't move as pain shot up her right arm and into her shoulder. It didn't take her long to realize she was in Sherlock's flat, who else could live in such a cluttered place, not that she was any better herself, Molly had always enjoyed the cluttered life style, she found it comforting.

"You're awake then i see" came that deep baritone voice Molly would never not recognize.  
"What happened Sherlock?"Molly asked trying for a second time to move but failing miserably, Sherlock walk over to her quickly and helped her into a sitting position lingering just a little too long.  
"You appear to have fractured your shoulder" Sherlock said as if it wasn't obvious enough.  
"I know that Sherlock, but how did i do it?" she asked getting impatient. She noticed for the first time since she awoke that there was a sling around her shoulder. She was still in her work clothes and all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep to make some of the pain go away, why did he always have to be so difficult.

Sherlock looked at Molly realizing her impatience and took a seat beside her."You tripped over your bag on the way down the stairs at the morgue. I brought you back hear and did the best i could." He said in a sympathetic tone. Molly didn't understand, Sherlock was never sympathetic and most people would've called an ambulance or took her to the hospital. She couldn't be bothered to ask why so she just nodded. Looking around she noticed the clock on the wall the one that sounded a little fast it read 12:07 am. Molly fumbled for her phone to see if this was right. Her phone showed 11:50 pm. It was late and Molly needed to go home.  
"I've got to go Sherlock i have work tomorrow" she said standing up and looking for her bag.  
" I called St Barts and told them you'd be off considering everything that happened" Sherlock said looking at molly.  
"Oh. Thank you Sherlock, but i still need to go home" she said spotting her bag hung on the coat rack. She grabbed it and headed toward the door.  
"You could stay here" he mumbled looking at the floor. He couldn't understand why she kept making him so nervous, shouldn't it be the other way round? Molly was usually the one who was nervous around him not the other way.  
Molly thought she'd heard wrong "s-stay here?" she asked doubt filling her voice.  
"Yes Molly stay here, Its late and it'll be hard to get a cab at this hour, you can take my bed and i'll sleep on the couch. You can go home in the morning to rest your shoulder." he replied in a final tone. He walked out of the room quickly to get sheets before she could say no or even reply.

Molly sat stunned as she watched Sherlock's tight purple shirt over his muscular back disappear down the hall leaning forward to catch a glimpse of his dark curls before being engulfed in darkness at the end of the hall assuming that was either where his bedroom was or where the spear sheets were. She played with her ring twirling it around her finger on her right hand, not really sure what she was supposed to do. The light from the fire bouncing of its shiny surface, making it look alive of her skinny pale fingers. Her mother had given her it when she was a child and she rarely took it off. it was 18-carat gold and it had a leafed pattern that twirled its way around the ring with a green gem in the center, it reminded her of the a fairies crown.

After a couple of minutes Molly decided to go and find Sherlock. She was tired and she had a head ache that was growing more and more painful by the second. Wandering down the hall in search of Sherlock she noticed how modern this part was compared to the Victorian styled living area. The walls were white and had no decoration it was simply and clean the bathroom was tiled and it had a simple shower and bath in one, a small toilet in the corner and a sink opposite. At the end of the hall was Sherlock's room. She peaked her head around the corner of the door, Sherlock had just finished changing the sheets. He turned around and spotted Molly watching him with a curious look on her face. He could tell she was exhausted.  
"The beds made and here's an old pair of my pajamas you can borrow, they will be too big but they should be alright for just one night" he said handing her a pair of cotton blue pajamas. They looked new but she could tell they weren't as the threads along the bottom where coming loose.  
"Thank you, are you sure it's alright for me to stay, i don't mind sleeping on the sofa if you want to have your bed" she said blushing slightly at how nice he was being.  
"Molly, your'e staying and you are sleeping in this bed, the sofa isn't going to do your arm any good. That's final." he said with a nod and left the room.

Molly changed into the soft cotton pajamas quickly and got straight into bed, his bed.  
It was extremely comfortable and smelt of wash powder. His pajamas smelt just like him and molly couldn't help breathing his scent in deeply. 

She'd been laid there for more than ten minutes and yet sleep still wouldn't come. The room was dark but she could make out the periodic table poster at the foot of Sherlock's bed, it was the only thing on the wall, there was nothing else, no art, no posters, no certificates, nothing. She sighed and turned over to face the bedroom door making sure not to lean on her shoulder.  
The door moved open slightly and Sherlock walked in trying to be quiet until he realized Molly was still awake.  
"do you mind if i sleep in here as well? The sofa really is uncomfortable" he asked moving slowly towards the bed.  
Molly blushed at the thought of sharing a bed with Sherlock but still managed to stutter out a small "s-sure." He slowly laid down under the covers and Molly finally found sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not really sure if this will work,it's just an idea to keep the story going, let me know what you think :)

Molly woke up in a daze.  
Where was she?  
Who was this strange man?  
Why was his arms around her?

She shot up, feeling pain all through her right shoulder shooting through her neck and down her arm. When did that happen? She moved quickly from the bed making Sherlock sit up in with a confused look on his face sleepiness leaving him quickly as he saw the frightened look of a trapped animal on Molly's face.  
"What's wrong Molly?" he asked, getting off the bed and taking a step towards her, but stopping as she backed closer to the hard wall wincing as her shoulder knocked against it.  
"Who are you? Where am I?" she asked, her voice growing smaller and smaller. Looking around for an exit she noticed the door on the opposite side of the room. All she needed to do was get through that door then she'd figure out what to do next.  
"Molly... What...? You don't know who I am do you?" he asked finally realizing what must of happened. She had amnesia, it was the only explanation.  
Molly saw that this strange man meant no harm and started to think rationally again, trying to work out what could have happened.  
"Did I drink too much or something? It's weird because I don't have a hangover and I don't even remember getting this..." Molly said looking down at her sling.  
"We didn't...you know...did we?" Embarrassed, she looked down at her clothes, that was weird, you don't usually borrow pajamas for a one night stand. Sherlock watched her as she tried to figure out what had happened. He was shocked. How could she possibly have forgotten him?  
"Molly, sit down. Please," he said softly, pointing to the bed. Molly saw his face marked with worry, he was frowning, his eyebrows drawn in and his mouth turned down at the corners causing his nose to wrinkle ever so slightly at the top. Slowly walking over to the bed she took a seat next to the seemingly unhappy man. She waited for him to say something but just looked at her for a while, staring into her hazel brown eyes.  
"Yesterday, you fell down the stairs at St. Bartholomew's hospital, where you work as a pathologist. You must have hit your head as well as fractured your arm because you can't seem to remember me. I'm Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. You've known me for more than a few years," He said watching her reaction carefully. She wasn't looking at him anymore she was staring at the white cotton sheets twirling and twisting them around her thumb and forefinger with a blank look on her face.  
"Is this some sort of wind up...Sherlock? What sort of a name is that? I don't know what you are talking about, I don't even know where St. Bartholomew's hospital is, in fact I've never even heard of it. I've only recently moved to London and already I've got some weird stranger telling me lies!" she said growing more confident and raising her voice. "I don't know you and I don't know how I got here but I'm going home and you can't stop me!" she stood up quickly and grabbed the clothes from the floor that she'd noticed earlier and thought were probably hers. Walking as quickly as she could, she stormed out of the room and searched for the bathroom, which was surprisingly easy to find. Locking the door she stripped the pajamas from her body and threw her clothes on. Leaving the pajamas on the floor, she left the bathroom.  
"The door is downstairs," said Sherlock as he watched her walk away.

He decided to follow her but not to tell her because he didn't want to freak her out. He knew she had moved house since she had come to live in London, which meant she was probably on her way to her old flat. The flat her keys wouldn't fit in. He let her go because maybe this would help convince her. Molly was a smart girl he knew she'd come to terms with it sooner or later. The quicker she came to terms with it the sooner he could help her regain her memories. Maybe her memories would return tomorrow, but for now, Sherlock needed to make sure Molly didn't do anything too drastic.

Grabbing his coat and scarf off the coat rack, he headed down the stairs and out of the front door, closing it behind him. It was a cold and dull London morning. The clouds were grey and shadowy not a scrap of the sky was blue. The wind was strong forcing Sherlock to pull his scarf tighter around his neck and to turn his collar up. He walked slowly keeping to the shadows of shop windows so if Molly did turn back she wouldn't spot him. Turning several corners in pursuit of Molly he managed to stay close enough to see her delicate body almost running up the pavement but far enough away so she wouldn't see him.  
The busy commotion of the morning rush wasn't helping in the slightest. He was constantly bumping into strangers who would swear at him and shout "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!" or something a little more obscene. Finally after twenty or so streets Molly stopped outside of an apartment block fumbling for her keys, which she didn't have in her possession. Luckily Sherlock had picked her keys up before he left. Not that it would make much difference, these keys would only fit into her new flat, not this one.

He watched to see what Molly would do, her light brown hair blowing out behind her. The wind made it look soft and silky making him want to run his fingers through it. Molly sighed and sat on the steps of the building putting her head in her hand and covering her face. What was she going to do? She had lost her keys and who the hell was that guy she'd woken up with? What if he was right? What if she really had lost her memory... Realising she should have listened to him instead of jumping to conclusions, she pulled her legs closer to herself and rested her head on her knees being careful of her shoulder, which was aching like a bitch. She ignored it and tried to figure out what to do. 

As she sat there arguing through decisions with herself she heard footsteps, tap tap tap, she recognized that noise it sounded familiar like when you get used to a close friend's way of walking. It was strange because it made her smile, that noise made her smile because it felt so familiar and friendly. Her smile faded quickly when she looked up to see that strange man, who calls himself "Sherlock", is about to sit next to her. Fine. If he insisted on following her like a puppy she was at least going to get some answers. Turning her head to the side she watched as Sherlock rested his hands on his knees and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his rosy lips before lighting it. He took a long drag, inhaling the smoke deeply before blowing it to the side, ensuring it didn't go into Molly's face. When he wasn't talking she could almost picture him as a friendly loving guy although he did have a stern, sophisticated look about him. His face was smooth, no imperfections and very high cheekbones. His eyes were the only thing that made him look cold. She thought they were a beautiful shade of blue but yet at first glance they made him look so harsh and uncaring.  
"Do you have my keys?" she asked, hope filling her voice.  
"Yes, I do but you'll find that they don't fit into there," he said, pointing to the apartment block.  
"And why is that?" she inquired, feeling irritated already, but slightly happy that he hadn't just left her to figure out everything for herself.  
"It seems that you've lost quite a lot of your memory as you no longer live here, this is your old flat," he said, taking another long drag of his cigarette. Molly was shivering. It was getting colder by the second and it was definitely going to rain. The clouds were thickening and getting darker and darker. Undoing his coat, Sherlock placed it around Molly's shoulders. She hugged the warm coat closer to herself, feeling grateful to Sherlock. Maybe he did have a heart in there somewhere.  
"Can you take me to the flat that I live in now please?" she asked. All she wanted to do was go home, maybe it would help her memories come back. She still doubted this theory but it was all she had right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it. :) one of my close friends helped with the editing.
> 
> I wont be able to write new chapter tomorrow unless it's small because i'm busy but if i don't have one up tomorrow there will definitely be one on Friday, promise. x :) :D

Walking in silence next to Sherlock Molly hugged his coat tighter around her small form. The wind was harsh whipping her hair around her face like winters breath. Neither Molly or Sherlock knew what to say, so they didn't say anything. It was growing colder and darker by the minute and Molly could only hope they were close to her flat.

The rain started slowly falling in small droplets landing on their faces and splattering the floor with small grey dots. It steadily built getting faster and harder until sheet after sheet of icy cold water was thrown upon them by the sky. They were both drenched from head to toe their clothes clinging to there bodies, Sherlock's shirt going see-through revealing his slim but muscular torso. His curls clung to his face and rain dripped off his eyelashes forming tiny rivers down his face. Molly wasn't doing any better but the coat was helping a lot. Her hair still stuck to her face but most of her clothes were still dry except for the coat.  
The winds force made the rain feel like tiny bullets hitting their skin repeatedly. Then the thunder came loud and with a big bang, startling Molly, it sounded like a stampede of elephants. Forked lightning struck the sky cracking it in half for a split second with its white-hot bright flash.

It made Molly think of her father. When she was a child and a big thunder storm would hit he would sit her on his knee, in his big leather chair and tell her the same short story every time. Pulling her close he'd whisper, "It may all look and sound scary but it isn't, not really. The lighting you just saw brighten the dark clouds was God turning on the light to his grand house. That thunder you just heard growling throughout the sky was God rearranging his furniture and all that rain you see bouncing of the pavement is the shower water from all those good souls and angels. Occasionally the simple things from heaven leak through to earth." Of course, now she knew that wasn't true, but it was nice to think about at times like this. 

After ten minutes of walking, Sherlock turned abruptly and walked up the front steps of a modern looking building, he pulled out some keys and handed them to Molly. With only one glance she knew they were hers simply because of the little key chain of a four leafed clover, she was a strong believer in luck, even though she didn't seem to be having much lately. She'd bought it on a weekend trip to Ireland when she was 17 and has had it ever since. There was something else as well... They just felt right, holding them in her hand felt natural, like she'd done it a hundred times before. Unlocking the plain brown door she stepped inside and immediately started walking up the stairs and down a long yellow corridor. It looked as though once it had been white. She stopped outside of flat 24a. She had been here before, she just knew she had been here before. "Is this the right one?" she asked turning to face Sherlock.  
"It is indeed." he said with a slight smile on his face.He was impressed, maybe the memory would come back fully, she just needed a little bit of prompting. Grabbing her keys, Molly unlocked the door quickly and entered.

Sherlock leaned against the solid door frame and watched her as she took it in. It felt like home to her but she couldn't quite remember why or where everything was. There was a small living area with two worn in couches, a TV and shelves filled with fiction books like: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, 1984 by George Orwell, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, as well as none fiction books like: Ways of Seeing by John Berger, Dispatches by Michael Herr and The Lives of the Poets by Samuel Johnson. The kitchen, which was just left of the living room, was painted a lime green color with black and white accessories. Which could only mean hear bedroom was to the right of the living area as it was the only other door in the flat.

Molly put her keys on kitchen worktop and walk over to the bedroom door opening it cautiously, just in case, her purple and white bed was neatly made but her bedside table was strewn with what looked like paper work. She walked around her bed noticing a two doors. Opening the one closest to her she discovered a fairly large closet filled with comfortable but not fashionable looking clothes, perfect. Stepping back out of the closet with some dry clothes, she opened the second door to reveal just what she needed: a bathroom with a shower as well as a bath and a toilet with a small sink just under a frosted window. The walls had been painted blue, it reminded her of the sky on a warm summer's day.  
Closing the door tight, she pulled off her wet clothes and placed them in a pile on the floor. She used the fluffy white towel she'd found on the back of the door to dry herself and put her hair in a twist on top of her head.

When Molly came back into the living room Sherlock had taken his shirt of and put it over her radiator to try and dry it off.  
"Do you want me to put your clothes into the tumble dryer? You can borrow my dressing gown or something until they're done." Molly said seeing Sherlock shiver slightly. Sherlock nodded.  
"You can find something to wear in there." she said pointing to her bedroom.  
"You'll have to root around a bit, I don't even know where everything is," Molly told him trying not to stare at his naked chest.  
He thanked her before disappearing into her room.

Molly wondered into the kitchen and looked through each and every cupboard trying to get a feel for everything. She checked her fridge and freezer to see what food she had and looked through the paperwork that had been left on the kitchen side.  
Printed at the top of every sheet was 'St Bartholomew's Hospital'. Wasn't that where Sherlock told her she worked? She knew that she was a pathologist and had come to London in search of a job, she just didn't know she had one already.  
As she stared down at the paper images began to flash through her head. She was stood in a cold bright room with a scalpel in her hand. Looking down she saw a cold, pale skinned man in his thirties. He was dead and she was doing his postmortem. He had died from a blow to the rib cage, puncturing his lungs, leaving him to slowly suffocate to death.  
"Molly! I need you to take a look at this man and tell me what you find. It's for a case." she recognized that voice, Sherlock's baritone voice.

The images stopped as quickly as they started and Molly felt a little bit better. Sherlock was right, she had lost her memory and he was going to help her get it back whether he liked it or not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this will be my last chapter. i may do another one but i think this will probably be the last chapter.  
> Thank you to everyone who's read it.  
> feel free to leave a comment :)

When Sherlock came back into the living area Molly was making tea. He watched her quietly, leaning against the wall in nothing but Molly's old fashioned checkered dressing gown, it was quite short, stopping just above his knee. Molly hadn't noticed him yet, she looked deep in thought. She was biting her lip and Sherlock had seen her do this many times at St Bartholomew's Hospital when she was either stressed or deep in thought. He found it extremely cute and couldn't help but smile. Her slim hand picking up the kettle and pouring hot water into the two mugs she already had out, the kitchen light bouncing off her ring. Sherlock had always wondered why she wore it and treated it like a child, he did want to ask, but he respected Molly's privacy as she seemed to get upset quite easily.

Molly turned to retrieve the milk from the fridge and jumped in shock when she saw Sherlock stood there watching her. She wasn't used to having visitors and she was still slightly shaken up about the life she couldn't remember fully yet.  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just..." Sherlock said looking at his hands and trailing off.  
"It's fine, really, it is. I shouldn't be such a wuss," she said smiling. She continued to walk to the fridge and pulled out the milk.  
"Where are your clothes?" she asked.  
"You're the one who told me to take them off Molly," he said in a confused tone.  
"Yes, I know that, but where are they...you know...so I can put them in the dryer?" she said pointing behind her in the general direction of the tumble dryer. Why was he acting so weird? She thought to herself.  
"Oh, right," he said, reaching behind him to pick up his clothes. Walking carefully, so the dressing gown didn't show anything unnecessary, he passed the wet clothes to Molly. She put them into the dryer and set it to 30 minutes, she then continued to make the tea, pouring the milk into the brown water and watching it blend until it turned a very light brown color.br />

Molly and Sherlock sat on Molly's bed whilst drinking their tea in hope it would bring back more of her memories as this is where she thought she was most likely to spend most of her spare time. Cuddled up inside her blankets was something she loved to do even before moving to London. Molly had told Sherlock about her flashback, and he had said that she needed to be around things that reminded her of her past, so she thought the bedroom would be the best place. They were sat opposite each other with their legs crossed. Leaning against her headboard Molly asked, "Can you go through what happened again? I think it may help."  
Sherlock nodded and placed his cup next to the bed.

"The day before yesterday, I came back from...the dead. Well, most people thought I was dead, except for you. You and my brother, Mycroft, were the only people who knew I was alive. I had faked my own death to protect several people and then I went away for three years to unravel my biggest case yet. I came back and visited St Bartholomew's Hospital in hope you were there, you were, working late as usual. I upset you and you left in a hurry. You got to the stairs and tripped over your bag ending in you falling. I lied when I told you I brought you straight back to my flat. I was worried about you, so I took you to the hospital and had you checked over, you were unconscious the whole time. I then brought you back to my house until you regained consciousness. The nurses said for you to stay in the hospital, but I know that you don't like hospitals, you don't seem to mind working in one but you hate being a patient in one. When you woke up I told you what happened and said you could stay. You borrowed my pyjamas and slept...just slept, nothing else. When you woke up you couldn't remember anything."  
Molly sat there trying her hardest to remember but she couldn't,it wasn't working, no matter how hard she looked at Sherlock or tried to remember herself sleeping in this bed, she couldn't.  
"I still can't remember. It's not working i thought if you told me i'd remember like i did when i looked at the paper work." she said sighing.  
"You have to try Molly." He said watching her forehead crease in frustration.  
"i am trying, i'm trying as hard as fucking can" slamming her drink down on her now empty cup of tea down on her bedside table.  
"I know that Molly, i didn't mean it like that i just mean you have to concentrate." Sherlock said keeping a calm and sympathetic expression. Molly couldn't take it anymore. She was so tired, angry and frustrated at the same time she lost control.  
"Sherlock, listen to me. I'm trying my fucking hardest. I'm concentrating as hard as i fucking can. Do you really think so fucking low of me? Iv'e lost several years of memories i'm not going to just sit here and piss about am i? Just because you think your'e so fucking clever doesn't mean i am!" she said her voice growing louder and louder.

Molly sat there trying her hardest to remember, but she couldn't, it wasn't working, no matter how hard she looked at Sherlock or tried to remember herself sleeping in his bed, she couldn't.  
"I still can't remember. It's not working, I thought if you told me, then I'd remember like I did when I looked at the paperwork," she said sighing.   
"You have to try Molly." He said watching her forehead crease in frustration.   
"I am trying, I'm trying as hard as fucking can!" she shouted, slamming her now empty cup of tea down on her bedside table.  
"I know that Molly, I didn't mean it like that, I mean that you have to concentrate." Sherlock was keeping a calm and sympathetic expression. Molly couldn't take it anymore. She was so tired and angry and frustrated at the same time. She lost control.  
"Sherlock, listen to me. I'm trying my fucking hardest. I'm concentrating as hard as I fucking can. Do you really think so fucking low of me? I've lost several years of memories I'm not going to just sit here and piss about am I? Just because you think that you're so fucking clever, it doesn't mean that I am!" she exclaimed in frustration, her voice growing louder and louder. 

Sherlock couldn't help it he stood up and closed the space between them. He grabbed her hips and she stopped talking as he pulled her closer pressing his mouth to hers, she tasted sweet, like lolly pops. Molly wrapped her hands in his now dry perfect curls, running her fingers through them, she smiled whilst kissing him. Sherlock ran the tip of his tongue over her lips as if asking for entrance. She opened her mouth and Sherlock deepened the kiss making her moan with pleasure. That's when it happened, one by one her memories started to return all the while this kiss continued. 

The first time she met Sherlock flashed through her head, he had been an arrogant bastard but she didn't care. She had been so stunned by his good looks she had fallen over herself more than once. More and more of these embarrassing encounters flashed through her head. Sherlock humiliating her in front of all her friends at the Christmas party. Sherlock calling Jim from IT gay...but then finding out he was Moriarty sort of made everyone forget about that. Each and every encounter making Molly fall more and more in love with Sherlock by the day. Everything had returned, all her memories were back and they had all but one been triggered by Sherlock. 

Sherlock pushed her up against the wall and trailed kisses down her neck, making her gasp in delight, she couldn't help it. She started to pull the neatly tied bow of the dressing gown. Sherlock pulled her hand away and put it around his shoulder before lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her to the bed laying her down. He pulled her trousers off to reveal that she had no pants on, he didn't mind it was one less job for him to do. Undoing the dressing gown he climbed over her and all of Molly's dreams came true. 

***

The morning came, light seeping through the cracks in the curtains. Molly stirred opening her eyes slowly. She had thought that the past few days had been a dream, especially last night. Apparently not, Sherlock was laying behind her, his legs entangled with hers, his arm wrapped around her in a tight embrace and his face nuzzled in the crook of her neck. She couldn't have been happier if she had tried.   
Sherlock was awake as well but he didn't tell Molly that. He just wanted to hold her for a little longer. Mycroft had always said: "Caring is a disadvantage brother" but Sherlock never had listened to his big brother anyway.


End file.
